On the Pull
by Snowcleo
Summary: Ianto doesn't consider himself the adventurous type, especially after Jack leaves.


Ianto had never really thought of himself as an adventurous person. Growing up he just wanted a good job, didn't care what, just anything that would get him out of the house. He figured he'd find said job, meet the right girl, settle down, and have a few kids and a pub-on-the-weekends kind of life. That was what he saw when he looked at Lisa for the first time. And the job at Torchwood One was just that—a job. Archiving, nothing exciting, nothing adventurous.

In retrospect, he wondered what pulling his bloodied, screaming girlfriend out of a Cyberman conversion unit, spiriting her away to Cardiff, and hiding her in the bowels of his new workplace while he spent his days assisting a group of alien hunters until she emerged to try to kill everyone and take over the world said about his definition of "not adventurous."

So in the beginning he couldn't quite believe that Jack could really be interested in him for more than a few nights. Ianto was not innovative; he wasn't avant-garde. He was just…Ianto. It was much to his amazement that Jack not only wanted to keep sleeping with him after their first, rather fumbling attempts at intercourse, but that he actually found himself propositioning Jack—over a coworker's corpse! And things only grew from there, moving onward and upward in ways Ianto never could have predicted.

At night, or rather anytime (for "night" was not really a requirement for them to have sex) they fell together in a hot tangle of limbs and tongues and sweat, they would do things that shouldn't have been possible, find pleasure in ways that were probably unheard of in the 21st century…and quite possibly the 51st, too. And in the morning (or later that day), when Ianto thought to blush with the memories, unable to ever again look Jack in the face, the captain would simply propose something else new and unique and they'd be off again. His proposals were always so rational and seemed so obvious after the fact that Ianto would be amazed that he'd never before thought to use that body part or that kitchen utensil or that piece of furniture for that particular purpose.

* * *

And then Jack was gone and Ianto was just Ianto once more. A snub nosed, slightly dumpy estate brat. The boring kid with the boring name. Not adventurous, not innovative, not avant-garde.

* * *

Even alien hunters need a break sometime and it was Tosh's birthday anyway, so that was how Ianto found himself at the pub on a Friday night roughly a month after Jack vanished into thin air while clinging to the side of a blue police box. Tosh and Gwen had disappeared off to the bathroom, giggling in a way that spoke of a few too many drinks and a desperate need for female companionship. This left Ianto nursing his beer and wondering if trying to make conversation with Owen was even worth the effort. They were never going to be the best of friends and frankly even a civil working relationship was too much to ask sometimes.

Owen's eyes roved the pub hungrily taking in the available selection of women like a hyena waiting for its next meal to drop over dead. Ianto must have frowned slightly because Owen glared back at him, "What? Don't approve of me looking for a pull?"

Ianto shrugged dismissively and took another sip of his beer.

The alcohol must have made Owen mellow for once because he dropped it. They were silent for a long moment. Then, out of nowhere, Owen spoke up, "You need to get laid."

Ianto choked on his beer. "What?"

"You can't keep pining over him. He's gone. He left us. He left _you_. You need to get over it."

Ianto stared at Owen, fighting the urge to say what he was really thinking, which was that he wasn't the only one pining over their runaway captain. Instead he settled for a noncommittal, "It hasn't been that long."

"Yes. It has. A month is more than long enough." Owen laughed harshly, "God, I haven't gone a month, hell, a week, without sex since…" His voice trailed off and his eyes became haunted briefly before he hid them behind a swig of his drink.

Ianto wasn't really sure what to make of that. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," Owen said dismissively, "but you get all creepy and quiet when you're not having sex on a regular basis. Makes me want to start checking the archives for mechanical girlfriends."

"Piss off," Ianto replied, though somehow it lacked the venom he'd meant to put behind it.

"I'm just saying, you're easier to work with when you're snarky and smart-assed."

Ianto considered that for a moment, disturbed that Owen seemed to have a good point. He was drifting again, slipping back into the quiet wallflower he'd been before the sexual tension had come to a head and Jack had finally fucked him against the wall of the Hub's archives two days after they were all almost eaten by cannibals. _Almost eaten by cannibals._ Good lord, what had become of not adventurous? He took another drink and decided he was buzzed enough for the truth. "I'm not good at picking people up."

Owen snorted. "Whatever."

"I'm serious. I'm not the type people want to get picked up by."

"What, you think you're not 'pretty' enough?" Owen sneered. "Look, that doesn't matter at a pub. It's all about how you act, whether you can play the game. It's not like I'm the best looking bloke in the place, but I get by." He punctuated this by grinning lasciviously at a busty blond across the room from them. She smiled slightly, looking up under her eyelashes, checking them both out. "See?" Owen said, his point made.

Ianto shook his head, "I'm not into playing games."

That made Owen laugh, "I highly doubt that. You were fucking Captain Slut for how many months? If even half his stories were true, I bet you know games I can't even imagine!"

Ianto blushed for a second, then, decision made, he downed the last of his beer. "Three-fourths."

Owen looked at him quizzically.

"I'd say about three-fourths of the stories were true." Ianto felt a grin break across his face as he listened to his own words. "And you aren't wrong."

Owen burst out laughing. "Alright then! Don't want to know any details, thank you very much, but at least I know you're not the repressed, uptight prude I assumed at first."

"Thanks, I think," Ianto smiled.

"So," Owen continued, ignoring him, "all you've got to do is pick someone out. Who do you figure? Any of the guys strike your fancy, tea boy?" He waved an arm imperiously towards the bar and the barmaid brought them both refills. "Or are you done with your bi-curious experimenting and ready to go back to girls?"

Ianto thought about it. "I…don't know. Hadn't planned on pulling anyone, so I hadn't thought about it."

"Oh, please," Owen replied, "you're a guy. You've thought about it alright, even if you haven't done anything. What do you want?"

_Jack. I want Jack._ The thought rose unbidden in Ianto's mind, before he quashed it ruthlessly. Instead he scanned the pub. There was a pretty girl with wild red curls standing with her friends. Her round curves were on display in a pair of black jeans and a fitted blue top. On the other side of the room a muscular man with rich dark skin was shooting pool. Every time he bent over, his jeans hugged his ass tightly. As if he felt Ianto's gaze, he looked over. Their eyes met and the man smiled slightly.

Ianto turned back to the table and realized Owen was looking at him. "See," the doctor said. "It's not that hard." He stood up and finished off his drink. "Go on, pick one. Or both. Whatever. Have fun, live a little." The sound of high pitched giggles announced the return of Tosh and Gwen.

"Well, I'm off," Gwen announced. "Rhys is picking me up out front." She hugged Tosh. "Happy birthday! Enjoy your weekend off. My turn to keep an eye on the Rift." She toss money on the table for her drinks, and waved as she disappeared out the front door of the pub.

Owen bowed to Tosh, "May I see the birthday girl to her cab?" Predictably, she giggled and blushed. Owen tossed a handful of bills onto the table. "Ianto, see to the tab, okay?" Ianto nodded, automatically slipping back into butler mode.

"G'night, Ianto," Tosh called as Owen walked her out the front door.

Ianto raised a hand in farewell and called, "Happy birthday." When he turned back to the table, movement caught his eye. The man from the pool table was coming his way. Ianto watched, feeling oddly dissociated from himself, as the man drew closer.

Stopping at the table, the man stuck out one strong hand, "Hello. I'm Samuel." His grin was wide, but lacked the recklessness of Jack's. Still, it suited him. Ianto felt the corners of his mouth tug upward. He took the offered hand.

"Jones, Ianto Jones. Would you like a drink?"


End file.
